


constellations

by Kuromori (necrocrunk)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, a sort of pre-established relationship, i wrote this in 10 minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necrocrunk/pseuds/Kuromori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i was listening to constellations by darwin deez, and then gave myself 10 minutes to write a fic<br/>so uh<br/>this happened</p>
            </blockquote>





	constellations

the spy smells vaguely of expensive cologne and pure sweat. and you wouldn’t doubt it, with his thick suit and clever mask. but you note it even more when he decides to invade the privacy of your nest above the battlefield. you dont question when he sets himself down on a nearby crate and watches you pick off people, one by one. sometimes he even laughs. a simple ” ‘lo spook” is usually enough of a greeting for him. the routine really never ends.

and then other times, he’ll sneak into your small camper, get comfortable in the booth behind the table with some book you’ve never heard of and a cup of your coffee, and stay there till he feels fit. sometimes you join him, other times you’re too busy a number of other things to even consider. and sometimes you just feel like he needs his space. there really isn’t enough room for the both of you anywhere in the place, but if he’s content, it’s enough for you.

youve seen his face before, only a few times (to protect his identity, he tells you), but it’s hard to forget it. his hair is only an inch or two longer than yours. you wouldn’t be able to even decipher that with his mask on. you consider yourself special occasionally, knowing that fun fact, usually in the most random of times. the spook also enjoys taking advantage of his hidden identity to take you out. to the most old fashioned diners he can find, on behalf of your love for homemade anything, and sometimes to expensive restraunts, which are usually more french or italian oriented. he refuses to let you pay, even the tip; always make sure to say “dearest mundy, im sure you need your money for something much more important than i. do not dwell on it.”

and you try not to. you never want to. never on the little things he does for you, little shows of affections. he’s still jammed a knife into your spine in your roost before, still made sure you know he’s still a spy, that he’s still out to kill you.   
made sure you still knew that maybe, this weird and forbidden love affair, couldn’t always be love


End file.
